


Wherever I'm With You

by Kacka



Series: Home Is... [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke comes home to find Bellamy baking up a storm, something he only does when he's nervous or excited about something big. (Follow up to Where the Heart Is)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherever I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

> This is SO fluffy, but I'm not sorry because I just want them to be happy and it doesn't look like that's happening anytime soon on the show. You have been warned.

The first thing Clarke notices when she walks in the door is that it smells like chocolate. She cocks her head, straining to hear what the soundtrack to Bellamy’s baking is, and smiles upon hearing the jaunty tune of Hakuna Matata. It doesn’t tell her what set him off this time, but it does tell her he’s not alone in the kitchen.

She crosses through the living room, straightening the couch cushions and pausing to pet the cat as she makes her way to the spacious kitchen. That was one of the biggest draws for her when she and Bellamy were looking at houses: room for him to pace and work things out while he has something in the oven.

Sure enough, when she reaches the kitchen it’s a huge mess and Bellamy is lost in thought, walking a circuit around the island with one hand resting on the back of his head like he ran it through his hair and forgot to drop it again.

“Mommy!” A small voice chirps from the kitchen table, where their three-year-old is coloring. Bellamy looks over at her and smiles softly in greeting. He’s still lost in his head, so she gives him a minute to find his way out.

“Hey, baby,” Clarke says, crouching down next to her daughter. “What are you drawing?”

“It’s a ‘paceship,” Cassie says, as if it should have been obvious. “‘N that’s the aliens.”

“Of course,” Clarke says, slapping her forehead in mock realization. “Aunt Raven has been teaching you about planets again, huh?”

“Mm-hm!”

“What’s daddy doing?” Clarke whispers conspiratorially, watching Bellamy mouth a sentence and gesture with his hands.

“Talking to his ‘maginary friends,” Cassie tries to whisper back, though it comes out as a breathier version of her normal speech. Bellamy’s eyes meet Clarke’s in amusement.

“I’ve got peanut butter brownies in the oven,” he says, coming over to drop a kiss on the crown of her head, and then one on Cassie’s when she pats her hair demandingly. Cassie was as blonde as Clarke when she was younger, and with her big blue eyes everyone could see that she was the spitting image of her mother. But Clarke had grown up practicing the beseeching blue-eyed stare on her parents and Bellamy hadn’t, so Cassie easily had him wrapped around her finger. In more recent months, however, her soft curls had been darkening, and Clarke was seeing more and more of Cassie’s father in her.

“What are you working on?” Clarke asks, pushing herself back up and grabbing a rag to start wiping down the counter. After all day in a sterile hospital, it’s both comforting and disconcerting to come home to a messy house. Bellamy teases her all the time about her impulses to straighten and clean, and wonders aloud where they’d been when he first started living with her. She always counters that they didn’t have a kid back then, and kids– Cassie, especially– are mess-making machines.

“Deposition for tomorrow,” he says, though it doesn’t ring quite true to Clarke. He’s too busy loading bowls and whisks into the dishwasher to make eye contact with her, so she can’t definitively call him out on it yet. The sheer volume of brownies, however, lends credibility to her theory that this is more than just a work problem.

“How many brownies did you make?” She laughs, looking at the stack of Tupperware already full to the brim.

“I got a little carried away,” he confesses, sheepish. “Can we send some with Cassie to daycare?”

“Probably not. They have peanuts, gluten, and dairy, so they don’t exactly meet classroom restrictions. But we have a play date tomorrow with Gabe and Eli. I’m sure I can convince your sister and Miller each to take some.”

“Yeah, that’ll be a hard sell.”

She waits until after they’ve put Cassie down for the night to bring it up again.

“So,” she drawls, munching on her third brownie. “What’s this deposition that’s got you all worked up?”

He sighs, throwing his head back on the couch before turning his brown eyes on her. That’s the look that makes her weak, that would make her give him anything he asked for. She loves her daughter, dotes on her probably too much, but the steel in her spine doesn’t melt for Cassie’s baby blues the way it does for Bellamy’s gaze.

“You know it’s more than just work stuff.”

“Yeah, but if you don’t want to talk about it yet you don’t have to. You can wait until you’ve baked enough to put the Girl Scouts to shame–”

“Girl Scouts sell cookies, not brownies.”

“–or until you have it all figured out, if you really want. I’m just saying, I’m your wife, so legally fifty percent of your problems are also my problems.”

He releases another dramatic sigh and reaches for her hand. She scoots closer, resting her head on his shoulder and letting him wrap an arm around her.

“One of the moms at daycare made a comment today that just kind of set me off.”

“What did she say?” Clarke frowns.

“Nothing directly offensive. She wasn’t even trying to imply anything, she just– she asked how we made the decision to go from half-days to full-days, and I told her, and she commented that she was worried because she felt like if she made the switch, someone else would be raising her kid.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, her voice quiet.

She’s not surprised a comment like that would worry Bellamy. Growing up, he’d shouldered more than his fair share of responsibility for raising Octavia, in part because their fathers weren’t in the picture and in part because his mother was either working, or, later, because she was ill. 

To be fair, the comments bother Clarke as well. Her own parents didn’t have to work as many hours as Aurora did to make ends meet, but Abby is still a notorious workaholic and Clarke remembers missing her mother at times as she was growing up. This isn’t an issue either of them take lightly.

“Okay, first of all,” Clarke says, sitting up so she can see her husband, “you are a  _ great _ dad. You are. The fact that you’re even worrying about this puts you miles ahead of either of our parents. Second of all, a huge part of the reason we put Cassie in full-time was because she was finally potty trained–”

“I know that. But Clarke, we get a sitter to pick her up more often than not–”

“Yeah, and they’re all basically related to her,” Clarke argues. She and Bellamy, Miller and Monty, and Octavia and Lincoln all take turns picking up the kids from daycare, and sometimes Raven even takes a turn if everyone else’s schedules don’t work out. Cassie and her cousin Eli are only a few months apart, and they’re nearly inseparable. Gabe is a year younger and a little more shy, but if there’s one thing none of their kids lack it’s family to turn to in a crisis.

“I know, I know.” He takes a deep breath and Clarke sees that look in his eyes– the one that tells her he’s rehearsed this, thought deeply about what he wants to say, and will probably end up improvising half of it anyway. Whatever’s coming, it’s why he spent all evening burying them in brownies.

“I’ve been thinking about giving away some of my cases.” Clarke blinks in surprise. This isn’t where she expected him to go with it at all. “It’s not just because I want to spend more time with Cassie. That’s a huge part of it, obviously; I care way more about raising her than making partner anytime soon. It’s also– I’ve realized lately that a bunch of my cases aren’t helping people in the way I’m passionate about. Kane is a good boss. I think if I talk to him, he’ll let me lighten my load.” His eyes skate over her face, trying to decipher it. “What do you think?”

“Are you expecting me to tell you not to spend more time with our daughter or not to focus your career more in the direction you want to go?” She asks, working hard to fight a smile. Even after all these years, she makes him more nervous than anyone. His brownie avalanche was probably more about telling her than about asking Kane.

“Seriously?” He asks, his thumb rubbing circles on her knee. “You just agree… just like that? I thought I was going to have to convince you.”

“I can think of some ways you can try to convince me,” Clarke smirks. His hand on her leg tightens, more purposeful now in his movements. 

“But what about the money?” He asks, leaning forward and mouthing up her arm and across to her neck. 

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, leaning back and pulling him on top of her. “I can be the breadwinner for a bit.”

“What about–”

Clarke pulls him up to plant her lips on his, kissing him hard enough to make him lose focus.

“Who’s supposed to be doing the convincing, here?” She whispers, grinning when she feels his lips pull into a wicked smile.

“Right,” he says, starting to move back down her body and running his hands up under her shirt. “Got it.”

“How about we take this to our bedroom before we get interrupted by  _ someone _ who has just learned how to climb over her safety rail?”

“Deal.” He kisses her again, quick and dirty, and then he’s standing. She barely has time to miss his warmth before he scoops her up and flings her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bellamy!” She laughs, pounding a fist mockingly against his back.

“Shh!" He cautions. "Don’t wake the toddler.”

* * *

Kane isn’t an easy sell, but eventually agrees. He’s had his eye on Bellamy to move up the ranks for a while, and is disappointed that Bellamy would take what Kane considers is a step backward in his career. He does, however, suggest that Bellamy work from home from time to time if he needs to. 

Cassie wasn’t  _ un _ happy before, but Clarke can tell she loves having her dad around more. It takes some adjusting to find the right schedule, but eventually they find a system that works.

Cassie draws her next picture of Bellamy and Lionel fighting aliens together. At least, that’s what she says it is. It’s hard to make out anything more than scribbles. Clarke puts it on the fridge and tells everyone that as an art minor, she can certifiably say that her daughter is a prodigy.

“I really think I’m getting the hang of this whole stay-at-home dad thing,” Bellamy says as he’s stirring the mac n’ cheese and negotiating vegetable eating with Cassie, all at the same time.

“That’s good,” Clarke says as she settles Cassie in her booster seat. “Because in about eight months we’re going to have our hands a tad more full than we expected.”

Bellamy pauses to gape at her, then pulls her to him to kiss her soundly.

Cassie gets excited too, though she doesn’t really know why.

“For real?”

“Yep. Got the tests done while I was at work today.”

He beams and tugs her in for a hug, leaving the macaroni to its own defenses.

“I think this calls for some celebratory cookies,” Clarke whispers, lest little ears overhear and get too excited. 

“I’m on it,” he promises, and if Clarke had any doubts before, she’s positive now that he really is the world’s greatest dad.


End file.
